Pen Marks and Pining
by theAkuRokuFaNaTiC
Summary: AU, no Robin. When sent away by his Uncle Barry to learn under the legendary Batman, Kid Flash is forced to attend Gotham Academy to keep his cover as Wally West. The school is mundane and torturous, until the ginger lays his sights on the very attractive and very unattainable Richard Grayson. Birdflash. Chapter fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A.N.: So I've recently gotten involved in YJ, and I am absolutely in love with it! I've always loved Robin (Batman: TAS, and Teen Titans), but I just think he is TOO cute in this show! Also, I loved Flash in Justice League, so seeing him all teenager-y made me happy! Thus, Birdflash has happened. This can be read alone, or I can expand it. I'm not sure yet. But I'd love to hear what you guys think! Also, I don't own YJ, or DC Comics. I'd be very happy if I did, though. Thanks for reading!**

He liked Gotham Academy just fine. Sure, the kids were stuffier and the hallways were way harder to rig into some sort of practical joke and the teachers had no sense of humor whatsoever. And the food portions weren't nearly as large as a public school's, because rich kids are supposed to be birds, apparently. And the tests were a lot harder, not that he struggled any. And the breaks in between classes were short and supervised, and -

In short, there was only one thing that kept Wally enamored with the accursed school. Or rather, only one person.

Richard Grayson. Petite, slim, raven hair, deep blue eyes that seemed to lure Wally in with just a wayward glance, and that adorable giggle (not a chuckle or a laugh - a giggle) that stopped the ginger right in his tracks.

It had been Wally's fourth day at Gotham Academy when he heard that noise. It was like a sweet sort of birdsong that appealed to every one of the speedster's senses; he could even _taste_ the honey-like sound, it was that amazing.

Richard had been walking with his gaggle of friends, joking about that one kid who always confused circumscribed polygons with circumcised polygons. The wordplay itself was geeky and completely below Wally's array of humor, but when the pun came from Richard, it might as well have been from Narcissus himself.

Perhaps Wally was dramatizing the ebony-haired boy's attractiveness; but to the redhead, Richard Grayson truly was something special.

There were only a few problems to this "Wally-and-Richard-will-find-each-other-and-be-married" idea. The ginger was two years older - he and Richard shared no classes, save for lunch. Frankly, Richard didn't even know that a certain Wally West went to Gotham Academy, let alone existed. What was worse was the frightening rumor that Richard's adopted father, Bruce Wayne, was very protective of his ward - surely dating an over-excitable redhead would not be in the millionaire's future plans for his son.

And lastly, Wallace West was a sidekick. This was why he transferred to Gotham Academy; or rather, Gotham City in general. Good old Uncle Barry thought that it would be a good learning experience for Kid Flash to spend some time learning under the one and only Batman. It would give Wally a certain discernment he needed whilst fighting crime that the Flash was certain he currently lacked. The kind of discernment that prevented Wally from overlooking his opponents - Batman himself said that it could save the sidekick's life.

And Wally couldn't have been more thankful. If it hadn't have been for his lack of caution, the ginger would've never caught sight of the blue-eyed wonder that was Richard. Even if he didn't love Gotham Academy too too much.

Currently, the freckled teen was trying to remember the stupid, complicated code to his locker. Teenagers were impatient, thought it was significantly harder for the speedster to keep his concentration than most teenagers, because Waly never liked to wait for anything. He didn't want to be patient; rather, he desired to just rip the metal off its hinges and be done with the whole situation.

Combinations. Were literally pointless. What, was someone going to steal Wally's calculator? Perish the thought!

(Actually, Wally did kind of need that piece of technology - it was sort of expensive).

Growling to show his superiority to the metal door, Wally slammed his fist into it, leaving the slightest of dents that did nothing to harm the ginger's hand. He considered just facing the wrath of his history teacher when the sound of laughter reached the redhead's ears.

But, it wasn't really laughter. It was a gi-

No. Richard couldn't see him like_ this_ - frustrated and upset and abusive to school property. Not exactly the greatest of first impressions.

"I'm going to assume that you and Mr. 64 don't exactly see eye to lock?" came the smooth and light voice of the object of Wally's current affection. Richard stood before the exasperated ginger, hair perfect, smirk in place, and his hand pointed towards the still-closed doctor.

The question confused and startled Wally for a few milliseconds before he noticed that his locker, the demon-possessed door that it was, was Locker 64. Smooth, Wallace. Totally smooth.

"Yeah, he really likes some light reading, I guess. Because, you know, my books are being held captive like tiny damsels in distress."

Richard's blue eyes twinkled in amusement. "I can't imagine that you want to get your Algebra book back, though."

"I don't seem like a Mathlete to you?" Wally responded, trying very hard to mask his nervousness with confidence. That's what he always did when anxiety reared its ugly head; it was pushed down with a layer of false nonchalance.

Sometimes, Wally pulled off this transition seamlessly.

At others, he failed miserably, ending in utter and horrifying embarrassment.

"You just haven't signed up for any extracurriculars yet. I sorta figured that you were a bit of an introvert." Richard leaned against the unoccupied locked next to Wally, smiling and looking interested in the conversation. "You proved me wrong."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On…I'm not quite sure. Do you need any help on your locker?" Richard asked, pointing to the demon-seed device. Starting, Wally nodded lamely, stepping aside as the raven-haired teen fiddled with it for a few moments, smirked once more, and turned the lock accordingly; he made a show with his hands as the lock clicked in acceptance of the code. "Your Algebra book is saved."

The ginger laughed in thanks. "You're pretty good at lock picking, huh?"

Shrugging, Richard responded, "It's just something I sort of picked up. You should see Bruce. He's fantastic at that sort of stuff." The blue-eyed boy stopped to consider himself. "I'm Richard Grayson, by the way. And Bruce is-"

"Bruce Wayne? Millionaire? I may have some familiarity with the name. I think everyone in Gotham might." Richard smiled sheepishly at the ginger's comment. "I'm Wally, by the way."

The ebony-haired teen extended his hand as only the son of an aristocrat could. "You can call me Dick, if you want."

Returning the handshake, Wally quirked an eyebrow. "Dick?"

"Or Richard. Or Ricky. Or _Rick_, if you really feel like annoying me."

It was strange, Wally found, that someone so "unattainable" as Dick was actually quite nice and funny. And cute. Dick Grayson was _really_ cute. "You know," Dick started, his voice soft and airy, "we've missed fifteen minutes of our classes."

"Huh," answered the redhead stupidly.

"You know what's even weirder?"

"Huh?"

"I don't really mind."

Feeling his face light up much like a Christmas tree would, Wally scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I can't say that I mind too much, either. You're pretty...cool." This statement elicited a sweet giggle from Dick.

"I should _probably_ be getting back to class." With that, the raven-haired teen turned and began to walk away, but not before stopping and walking back to the lonesome ginger. "Is it true?" he asked softly, almost shyly, with seemed to be an odd sort of thing for the very-confident Richard Grayson. He always seemed to be parading through the hallways with such an air of togetherness that it seemed improbable that Dick could be, even for a moment, _shy_.

However, the odd question caught Wally off-guard. "Is what true?"

The smirk resurfaced on the blue-eyed boy's face. "That you were checking me out the other day?"

"Oh...that..."

What should he say? Should he even respond? Could he pretend to start speaking gratuitous Spanish (Wally did know quite a bit of Spanish)? Wally's freckles were likely to be completely hidden by his very red blush. "I'm one to neither confirm nor deny," the ginger answered wisely, feeling quite tempted to stroke his chin like a cool sagewin one of those movies.

"Well, if you were, then I would consider giving you my phone number. But since you are neither confirming not denying this, I should just return to my classes. I'll see y-" Dick began, stopping abruptly as he was cut off.

"If I said 'yes', what would you do then?" the redhead replied quickly, breathing nervously when the brunette swerved around. His blue eyes were wide in what could only have been disbelief, but that was impossible. It was Richard Grayson, after all.

Wally took a deep breath. "Because I was."

With a light smile that made him look so adorable it was criminal, Dick fished in his pocket for an expensive-looking pen (if there was a fancy pen competition, Dick would win without contest). The brunette grabbed Wally's hand and made delicate or strokes on the freckled teen's hand. It tickled like no other, yet Wally kept his hand still for fear of Dick getting upset and storming off.

That would certainly suck.

Once he was finished, Dick pulled away and looked quite pleased with himself. "There. You can call whenever, but I can't promise that I'll always pick up. I don't have a cell phone, so I just use the home phone. But Alfred usually's the closest to it. He's the butler, by the way."

Bruce Wayne's son. Butler named Alfred. Rich kid, rich kid, rich kid.

Richard Grayson was a rich kid. And Wally West was the pining pauper.

Gasping and checking his watch, Dick looked up apologetically. "Listen, I have to get to class. I'll see you tomorrow?" the brunette asked hopefully. It was all Wally could do to just nod and say nothing more.

The ginger watched, perhaps a bit lustfully, Dick's retreating form, particularly his lower end. Shaking his head to get such ungentlemanly thoughts out of his mind, Wally looked intently at the number written on his hand.

He sighed when all he saw was a few pen strokes and a smiley-face.

Wally West had been duped.


	2. Chapter 2

**A.N.: Due to popular demand, I will continue this story, if only for a little bit. This chapter is a bit pointless and very short, but after this, the story will probably get darker. I don't own Batman or YJ, but if I did...I think we all would know what would happen if I did. I hope you guys enjoyed, and reviews would be appreciated! :)**

For the rest of the day, he could only wonder what could turn Dick off to the thought of Wally's calling the Wayne Manor. When he could think of nothing, Wally groaned and buried his face in his hands. He didn't even bother paying attention to the strange looks that his Algebra class shot him, including the teacher.

Algebra reminded him of Dick.

Finally, the bell rang for the end of the day; abusing his speedy powers, Wally raced towards Dick's homeroom class. A very hopeful part of the ginger figured that the younger teen would stay at least a few moments after class to gather his belongings, at least.

Wally's guess was confirmed when he noticed Dick walk outside the classroom just a moment after everyone else. He had his books under his arm, looking quite sophisticated; if Wally weren't so mad at him, the redhead might've thought he looked quite nice.

The funniest thing was the wide-eyed look Dick sent Wally. Apparently, the brunette never had a rejectee confront him. "Can I help you?" Dick asked politely.

"Ah, nah; I was just wondering why you wanted to put a smiley-face on my hand instead of a real number."

A guilty look crossed Dick's face before the angered ginger continued. "I mean, I get not putting a number at all, but a smiley face?"

"Um-"

"Did my hair offend you, or something?"

"No, it's just-"

"Is it my freckles? I swear I don't have melanoma!"

Dick put up a hand to stop the rambling redhead who quickly went from upset to desperate. "I like you, I really do. But I don't know you. And - and I don't think that Bruce would like it too much if I just gave away my phone number. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

The blue-eyed teen seemed genuine enough, but Wally, understandably, was still a bit wary. He arched an eyebrow before asking, "You like me?"

"I think you're funny."

This comment most certainly did not make Wally's heart soar to a height higher than even Superman could fly. It did, however, prompt the redhead to smile, just lightly. "You think so?"

"What do I know?"

"A lot, obviously," the ginger replied in his most confident voice. "So, is your dad protective, then?"

Hesitating for just a moment, Dick said, "Like you wouldn't believe."

Both the teens gave small, if not uncomfortable laughs. And then, without warning, Wally spoke up. "So…does this mean that I get your number?"

"Maybe."

Without another word, Dick turned and walked down the hallway towards his locker. He didn't bother to look behind him, because a small part of him figured that just merely walking away could not deter Wally so easily.

If Wally really was serious, of course.

Turning the dial to his locker, Dick carefully coded in the combination; he was wise enough not to blunder in front of the redhead, yet his fingers still shook from what could only be described as nervousness. Normally, Dick was sure of himself (years of living with the confident Bruce Wayne would teach one this principle), yet Wally made his knees feel like quivering jelly.

The thought that Dick could feel himself falling for this boy already was frightening.

Bruce didn't do relatonships. He was honest enough about it, and the petite teen had always thought that Bruce and Alfred's companionship would suffice him for life. But Wally, whatever little Dick knew about him, was different. Not uptight or stuffy or even rich, it would appear - Wally seemed happy and carefree, almost wild, when he wasn't stumbling over his own sentences.

The brunette's stomach did an uncomfortable flip as he thought of what Bruce would say. While he was a man of little words, Bruce's eyes seemed to convey everything the dark-haired millionaire thought.

Of course, Bruce didn't have to know.

"Here," Dick said, grabbing Wally's hand and writing a real number this time, "Call after eleven."

While the redhead stared at the neat set of numbers on his hand, the blue-eyed teen grabbed all of his belongings out of his locker and closed the metal door. He turned to face Wally, who gazed at him with intensely green eyes. They were bright and almost mischievous, yet Dick found himself caught in the color.

"There's no smiley-face," the ginger pointed out quietly.

"I guess it's because I don't like you anymore," Dick said calmly, only cracking a smile when Wally's eyes went wide. "Hey, you wanna walk me out?"

It was like an invitation to meet the Queen of England. Nodding eagerly, Wally raced ahead of the brunette, careful to avoid using his super speed, and waited at the open door. It only took seventeen seconds for Dick to meet up with the ginger, and even then the blue-eyed boy seemed shocked.

"You're fast."

"I've been told."

The pair walked outside and came face-to-face with a stately limousine. The sight stopped Wally dead in his tracks, but Dick continued walking as if nothing strange occurred.

The ebony-haired teen greeted an older-looking man wearing a crisp black suit. He had a glint of youth in his otherwise aged face, though Dick only smiled as the limousine's inside was offered to him. He cast Wally a sympathetic sort of glance when the brunette noticed the taller teen's shell-shocked expression.

"Master Richard," the gentleman said, bowing only slightly to the petite teen. He sent Wally a strange look; the butler (?) seemed surprised that Dick had a friend with him, though the thought made Wally sweat even more.

"Alfred, this is Wally. Wally, Alfred."

With that, Dick only gave his ginger friend a nod for a goodbye and climbed into the backseat of the limousine. Or so Wally thought. When Alfred turned away to pick up the backpack that Dick had left on the ground, Dick made the universal "call me" sign with his hand.

By the time the butler returned to his young ward and closed the door to the teen's side, Dick was once again a brunette angel with the large, unassuming blue eyes. He gave Wally one more substantial gaze before Alfred walked over to the other side of the limousine.

The butler closed the door to his own side, and the engine of the limousine started up. A part of Wally wanted to rip open the car door and ride with Dick, though he quickly reminded himself that that would only make this Alfred and then Bruce dislike him even more than they normally would.

Parents never liked Wally. Perhaps it was his fast-paced life, or maybe his red hair that immediately set him off as a troublemaker. Whatever the reason, the adults never really trusted the ginger.

This time, Wally was very certain that he wasn't going to screw things up early on. Or at any time, actually.

The large car pulled out of the parking lot, and a sudden thought occurred to Wally that made the redhead want to smack his face against a wall multiple times. How could he call Dick after eleven when _he _himself was out on the streets at eleven. And, a strange and very suspicious part of him figured that the Caped Crusader that was Batman wouldn't be too fond of his new follower stopping every sixty seconds to check his cell phone for a missed call.

Though that was just a hunch.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, as Wally sat alone in the spacious apartment that Batman had "generously donated" to the young speedster for the sole purpose of keeping Wally away from the Bat Cave, the ginger finally got a moment to think. He really liked Dick. A lot. And it would seem as if the ebony-haired teen felt similar feelings, in a way.

But what would Uncle Barry say? Sure, he had started a relationship with a normal woman when he was just starting out as a superhero. That was different, though, and Uncle Barry would say exactly that. The blonde man was an adult; he knew what he was doing. (Even though Wally was quite certain that his uncle had no clue what he was doing). Batman would be furious. The "Caped Crusader" had allowed Wally to come to Gotham City for one-on-one training if and only if the young speedster didn't goof off.

Would dating the child of the famous Bruce Wayne count as goofing off? Probably.

Wally had heard plenty about Bruce Wayne - he had to if he was going to even begin living in Gotham City. Bruce Wayne was the _crux_ of the city. He gave back to the community, owned companies, and even adopted an orphan. With all that information, though, Wally would presume that Mr. Wayne was an easy-going sort of guy.

That didn't make it any less terrifying. On top of that, Richard also noted that Bruce Wayne was the _very _overprotective type. That never boded well. With his parents, and even to a lesser extent, Aunt Iris, Wally was practically allowed to do whatever he pleased, so long as he didn't break any limbs or get arrested. Currently, he had only broken his wrist and leg. And a thumb.

Checking the digital clock that sat on the dark-wooded coffee table, Wally noticed that he still had plenty of time before he would go patrolling with Batman. His first patrol with the big guy. Just the very thought gave the ginger a terrible cold chill that he would never like to experience again. It was surreal, to be patrolling with _Batman_. It was a sidekick's biggest dream and also their greatest nightmare. It was sort of the "make-it-or-break-it" moment. If Batman deemed someone unworthy, then he might as well be thrown to the dogs. Or so it felt like.

Shaking his mind of the terrifying man, Wally looked back to the clock. He had time. Just one text message. That couldn't be too bad. If anything, the ginger teen reasoned, the Wayne family didn't frighten him in the least. The butler looked very friendly, and Dick was amazing, and Bruce Wayne seemed cordial. And it was just a text. Just a text. Directed towards the son of Gotham's most elite millionaire. Not scary at all.

With shaking hands, Wally pulled out his cell phone, smiling fondly at the Flash phone cover that Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry had gotten him. He added Dick as a new Contact in his phone, and sent a quick text to the blue-eyed teen, just to let him know that Wally did have his number and totally _was _willing to talk to him, just not tonight. He had patrol tonight, and that was bad enough.

_Can't call tonite. C u at school._

As he hit "Sent," Wally imagined what Uncle Barry would say about the lack of grammar and correct spelling. Of course, the blonde scientist would never have to know about this, Wally decided with a mirthful sort of grin. If Uncle Barry _was _aware of Wally's blossoming feelings towards Richard, the superhero would scold Wally both for dating a "normal" and also for neglecting patrol work.

Wally waited for a response, sighing heavily when no text came back after two minutes. If there was something one should know about a speedster, it was that they were _very _impatient. Two minutes seemed like twenty, and even a second late felt much too long for the ginger.

Maybe Dick was busy, the speedster reasoned with himself after seven more minutes. It had been nine minutes. Nine long minutes since Wally had basically put his heart out on the line. His text had been put on the digital stream for all to see. What if Dick had been playing him again? Suppose that the ebony-haired teen had just given the ginger another false number. It wasn't a completely insane thought; Dick did have a mischievous streak, after all. What if Wally had just sent a text to Bruce Wayne himself, or a police officer, or a hooker. That one seemed likely, too.

Ten. Ten grueling, torturous minutes. With a sigh, the ginger pocketed his cell phone and glanced around the apartment.

Wally had an hour before he had to leave with Batman. He had one long hour to sit and wallow in his self-pity. Deciding that there was nothing better to do than watch mind-numbing television (usually, Wally would just flip to GBS News, because Aunt Iris _always _managed to make things even more boring, except when she had an interview with the Flash), the speedster turned on the news channel and settled back into a cozy little armchair that Batman had been kind enough to provide the ginger with.

A little banner on the corner of the screen read, "Breaking News" in large, white letters. There was a line of ticker tape that kept running across the screen. It was a little flashy for _Gotham City_, Wally thought wryly, as he closed his eyes for just a few seconds.

He opened his green eyes again to see an attractive red-headed woman looking quite worried as she spoke into a camera. A small box next to her name said that her name was Vicki Vale. She was a reporter, Wally knew, because Aunt Iris always tried to look up other news stories to see how she could better herself as a reporter. (Ironically, she wasn't crazy about Lois Lane).

"The limousine was stopped at 3:47 at what appeared to be a routine traffic jam. However, just as the line of cars began to speed up, the vehicle was attacked by a group of men impersonating police officers. The butler and the young ward inside were both taken from the limousine. As of now, their whereabouts are unknown; but the chief of police, Commissioner Gordon, is already sending out police cars to search the area. Neither he nor Bruce Wayne, the adoptive father of the young boy, are taking interviews."

As the screen switched to something completely different, Wally felt his blood run cold. If Bruce Wayne was this kid's father, and Dick Grayson, was Bruce Wayne's son, then Dick Grayson had been kidnapped.

That would explain the lack of text messaging, Wally thought calmly. And then, as the puzzle pieces began to click together, the redhead's eyes widened. He whipped out his cell phone once more and searched his Contacts for Uncle Barry. Obviously, the older speedster would know what to do, right? He _always _knew what to do when these sorts of things happened. After all, Aunt Iris had played the "damsel in distress" role _way _too many times.

"Hello?" the groggy voice of Barry Allen asked. Uncle Barry had a strange habit of going to bed early, since he usually spent all of his energy chasing around villains during the daytime. Of course, the blonde would argue that ten o'clock was a reasonable bedtime for someone his age (even though thirty-five really didn't seem that old), and Aunt Iris would just smile and nod her head. Despite her fiery temper, she was actually fairly calm and sweet when it came to Uncle Barry.

(That, and Aunt Iris only agreed with Uncle Barry because she was still in her twenties and figured that if she saved up extra sleep now, it would keep her going straight into her middle-age years).

"Uncle Barry, I need your help," Wally stated, trying his very hardest to keep his whirling thoughts organized. The more time that passed, the more Wally's heart race sped and his imagination kept creating more terrible thoughts, each one worse than the last.

"What is it, sport?" Uncle Barry replied, immediately becoming alert. That was the great thing about the Flash - he could be dead to the world, and if something important happened, he'd be more alert than Batman in five seconds. It was something that Wally admired about his uncle, and hopefully it was something that could be honed in time.

"It's my first night with Batman, and I met this kid at school today. He's really awesome and funny, and he is the son of Bruce Wayne - you know about him, right? - And I came home, and I was waiting to text him - don't ask - but then I turned on the news. And that was probably a bad idea, in hindsight, but now it's a good idea, because I just saw that he got kidnapped, and I just...Uncle Barry..." Wally whined, finally taking a long breath after his monologue.

Barry was silent for a few moment, most likely trying to digest everything that Wally had said. "Okay. Why don't you call Batman? I mean, I'm sure he's already on the case - Batman does have a soft spot for kids."

That would work. "Yeah, I"ll do that."

"But," the blonde man continued, voice lowering, "I wouldn't get too upset if Batman just tells you to sit this one out. It's a pretty serious case, Wally. There are lives at stake. And, I mean," Barry continued lamely, "it is your first night on patrol."

"Yeah, but I've got to help!" the ginger teen argued.

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. "I understand, Wally, but sometimes you've got to think about what's beneficial for _everyone_. Remember, this is going to be new for Batman, too. He's not used to working with sidekicks. He only did this because I asked, and I think it'll be really good for you. _If _you can learn to cool your jets."

That was the annoying thing about Uncle Barry. He was usually right. "I guess. Anyway, thanks, Uncle Barry. I'll call you when everything gets sorted out."

"Okay. Be safe, Wally."

The two said their goodbyes, and Wally put his phone down thoughtfully. He knew his uncle was right; it was obvious. But still, Wally was never very good at paying much heed to authority. And besides, Batman would probably end up hating him, anyway. Better sooner than later.

_"Be safe, Wally."_

The words echoed in Wally's mind. Perhaps Uncle Barry _was _giving his seal of approval. He wouldn't tell Wally to be safe if the sidekick was merely staying at home for the night. Smirking, the ginger sped to his closet and pulled out his red and yellow uniform. Yeah, Uncle Barry usually was right. But he also had a mischievous streak a mile wide. That's why he and Wally got along so well. And Uncle Barry would do the same thing for Aunt Iris in a heartbeat.

* * *

Richard glared at the Joker, blue eyes narrow and dangerous. "_This _is your great idea?" He shouldn't be so calm about this, the brunette reminded himself. He was, after all, tied up and completely vulnerable. And yet, he'd met the Joker far too many times to be too concerned. Yet.

The white-faced man's never-ending smile dropped slightly. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't it be? Take you and the butler, get Bruce Wayne's money, _and _get ol' Batsy fired up. I think it's a pretty great idea!" The madman laughed to himself for a few moments before he sighed heavily, contented with his plan.

Looking to his left, Richard noticed that Alfred's expression mirrored the young teen. It was a look of completely nonchalance. Then again, Alfred had been through the "hostage-ransom" gambit far too many times to be afraid. And, both the butler and Richard knew that Bruce (and in return, Batman) would be there before either of the two were in any real danger. "So, what are you going to do while we wait for you to get sent back to Arkham?" Perhaps that question was a bit too cocky, because the Joker's smile widened to an almost painful look.

"Oh, don't worry, sonny. I've got everything figured out."

If it were the Penguin, or Scarecrow, or the Riddler, Richard might not have felt the pang of fear that ran through his body. It was very cold and very real. The boy squirmed uncomfortably, wincing when the rope cut into his wrists. Sure, the Joker was off-his-rocker, but that was the problem. He didn't feel guilt. He could kill without feeling bad at all.

Harley Quinn strode up beside the Joker, laying her head against his shoulder. "He's kinda cute, Mister J.," she said in that high-pitched voice of hers. That too set Richard on edge.

"He sure is, Harley. But we gotta keep kiddo and the old guy in one piece for Batman. Or until Bruce Wayne pays up." Harley giggled at the thought of money, and Richard had a sinking feeling as to why. Bruce could pay all the money he wanted to, but once the green-haired man got the ransom, it would be "curtains" for the hostages.

Richard allowed himself a worried glance toward Alfred. The butler gave a calm smile in return. There was no point in causing unneeded worry for the young boy.

"But for now," the Joker started, taking a few steps forward, knife in hand, "Let's take a look at the catch of the day."

**A.N.: I am so sorry for the long wait on this chapter, and it wasn't even that good. I literally have terrible problems with continuing things. However, I hope (tentatively) that I can get some more writing done this summer. I will be very busy, mind you, but I hope to be able to appease readers. I don't own Young Justice, and I hope that you guys enjoyed!**


End file.
